Nothing hidden behind or in them.
That just left two framed photos. One was of a teenage boy midair, a ball arcing from his fingertips. His coloring matched Gigi’s, his sweat-laden hair a mop of chocolate-colored curls. Colin. Grayson removed the picture from the wall and took off its backing. He searched, found nothing, and replaced it. Then he turned to the second photograph, a family portrait. Savannah was straight-faced, Gigi smiling, the two of them dressed in matching outfits. Grayson tried to place their age. Four, maybe five? Behind them, their mother leaned against their father.
They look like a family. They looked happy enough. Normal. There had been nothing normal about his own childhood.
Pushing back against that thought, Grayson removed the frame from the wall and the back from the frame, to no avail. And then he spotted a seam in the wood of the frame.
A seam that had no reason to be there.
Grayson ran his fingers along the side, prodding until he found the trigger. A small piece of wood popped out, revealing a compartment inside the frame—a very small one. Shifting to shield his actions fully from view, Grayson tipped the frame sideways. A small square fell out.
A USB drive.
He palmed it, and less than a second later, it was secured in the cuff of his dress shirt. One more smooth motion set the frame to right, but before he could set it back down, he felt one of the girls approach. Savannah. Without a word, she picked up the photo of Colin. “I don’t know what game you’re playing here, Grayson, and I don’t care.”
Had she seen him take the USB? Grayson didn’t think so and proceeded accordingly. “If you’re about to issue a warning,” he told Savannah softly, “I take it you know your target? What do you have that I want? What do I have that I’m terrified to lose?” He brought his eyes to hers. It felt far too much like looking in a mirror. “What type of person,” he continued, “am I?”
She raised a delicate brow. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
Answering a question with a question. Good.
“You two look cozy!” Gigi declared from across the room.
“Grayson was just about to call it a night,” Savannah said. “We found nothing, Gigi. There’s nothing to be found. Satisfied?”
“Always,” Gigi replied emphatically. “Also, never! I am full of contradictions.”
Grayson felt another tug toward her, toward both of them—and did his best to dismiss it. “I think we’re done in here,” he said. “What’s step zero?”
“The step in between steps negative one and one!” Gigi beamed at him. “You catch on quickly, my pseudonymous friend.”
“Not quickly enough.” Savannah sidled between the two of them. “It’s getting late.”
Grayson waited for Gigi to object, but she didn’t. “Totally. And step zero involves beauty sleep and outfit selection, because tomorrow night, we party.”
CHAPTER 22
GRAYSON
Gigi saw him out but didn’t follow him down the front steps. As Grayson paced toward the Ferrari, he heard a voice farther down the drive. Acacia’s. “You left her there overnight? And didn’t call me?”
Grayson could go still with a moment’s notice. Complete control of his body made it that much easier to disappear into his surroundings.
“She has to learn sometime.” That voice was male, unremarkable. “Do you know what would have happened if I hadn’t intervened, Acacia?”
Pinpointing their location to be inside the portico, Grayson allowed himself two more steps in that direction. Silent. Measured.
“It is not your job to teach my daughters anything, Kent.”
“And that’s not the only thing that’s bothering you, Mrs. Grayson.”
Trowbridge. Given that the two of them were clearly on a first-name basis, the fact that he’d chosen to address her as Mrs. Grayson felt pointed.
“Gigi saw the investigators,” Acacia admitted in a hushed voice that Grayson could barely hear. “I’m trying my best to protect the girls, but—”
“We’ve been over this, Acacia. You don’t have the resources to protect anyone. I’m doing the best I can, but you know—”
“I am going to handle this.” Acacia’s voice wasn’t hushed now.
“Your parents aren’t here anymore. Your husband is gone. And the money—”
“I know.” Acacia appeared, pacing outside the portico.
“I’ll do whatever I can.” Kent Trowbridge stepped out after her. He was shorter than she was and moved like a guy who prided himself on being fitter than men half his age. “You know that I am here for you, Acacia. You just have to let me be here for you.”
The moment Grayson saw the lawyer place a hand on Acacia’s shoulder—far too close to her neck—he took three loud steps forward. Instantly, Trowbridge’s hand dropped. Acacia stepped away from him, and they both whipped their heads toward the house.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Grayson didn’t raise his voice, but he had his grandfather’s way of being heard. He walked, his pace unhurried, to a spot just short of the Ferrari, then paused and held out his hand, forcing his opponent to close the distance between them to take it.
“Grayson Hawthorne,” he said, meeting the lawyer’s eyes.
He saw a spark of recognition at his last name. “Kent Trowbridge.”
Grayson let his lips curl slightly. “I know.” There was power in those two words. Make them wonder what you know.
Trowbridge glanced back at Acacia. “We’ll talk later,” he told her.
Grayson didn’t step into his own car until the lawyer was gone. He didn’t press Acacia on what he’d overheard. Instead, as he pulled out of the drive, he made a call. “Zabrowski, you have exactly one chance to prove to me that you’re worth continuing to keep on retainer.”
CHAPTER 23
JAMESON
Twelve hours after Jameson and Avery signed the NDA, another black envelope showed up at the flat. This one featured only a single thread of shining platinum, encircling a black wax seal. The design imprinted on the wax was familiar. A triangle inside a circle inside a square. Jameson ran his thumb over the contours, his brain rotating the shapes, disassembling them, reassembling them. He broke the seal and opened the envelope to find an invitation—also black, with silver script. Affixed to the bottom of the card, there was a small but ornate key.
Jameson skimmed the instructions and plucked the gold key from the card, then turned to Avery, an electric smile spreading over his face. “It appears we’re headed to the opera.”
“Zip me up?” Avery’s gown was black with gold embroidery, a delicate, complicated pattern that swirled down her torso, her hips, all the way to the floor. The sight of her in that dress, open in the back, brought Jameson right back to the edge of the falls, hungering for more.
“My pleasure.” He gave himself a moment first, tracing his hand from her bare neck to the small of her back, then splaying his fingers outward, the warmth of her skin soft and scalding against his palm.
Avery’s back arched. When she spoke, her voice was low and rough. “Tahiti.” When one of them said that code word—their code word—the other had to let their guard down entirely.
Jameson was surprised it had taken her this long. He leaned forward, his lips brushing her ear. “You want me to strip?” He brought his thumb to a spot just below her jawbone where he could see her pulse.
“I want you to admit that this matters to you,” Avery said, leaning into his touch.
Jameson wound his free arm around her, pulling her body back against his. “Winning always matters.” Being with her like this—it felt like winning every damn time. “An impossible challenge,” he murmured directly into her skin. “A hidden world. A secret game. It’s all very me.”
“And that’s it? This is just a diversion?” Avery turned her head, and Jameson began slowly tracing her jawline. Tahiti meant being honest—with himself, with her. He let his hand drop from her jaw.
N-O. He drew the letters with his thumb on her back.